


The Friendship Bracelet

by SnootyMcSnootykins



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Connor Needs A Hug, M/M, More like Connor pining, Only slightly couple-y, So do I, So much angst, TW for poor sad Connor, TW for referenced drug use, TW for referenced self harm, There's a bit of fluff, major trigger warning for self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 02:25:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnootyMcSnootykins/pseuds/SnootyMcSnootykins
Summary: Such a small thing can mean so much when someone's having a rough day. And Connor knows all about rough days.





	The Friendship Bracelet

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: referenced self harm and referenced drug use!
> 
> Also feelings, those things are pesky.

In the mind of one Connor Murphy, that Hansen kid was pretty alright. Ever since he’d left the hospital and Evan had explained what his letter had really meant, the two had been nearly inseparable. Truthfully at the start they’d both just wanted someone to talk to, someone to acknowledge they existed as more than walking balls of misery, someone who knew what it felt like to think no one would care if you disappeared. And it helped; the sting of perpetual loneliness which stuck to Connor like a bad smell was lessened, at least a little.

Evan was fun too, in his own dorky kind of way. He was crazy passionate about trees, a terrific writer, and had the foulest potty mouth whenever he was losing at literally any game ever. When Connor had found that out it had felt like all his Christmases had come at once. It really didn’t take much for the two of them to become close friends, and if the warmth of something more bloomed in the brunet’s chest every time the other smiled- nervous, always nervous- then that was just fine too.

They were polar opposites in so many ways; where Connor was loud and explosive in his temper when he was hurting, Evan was as silent as the day just before dawn and prone to curling in on himself as if he could hide from the world. Somehow they seemed to complement each other on those days when everything seemed to come crashing down on them. Evan’s quiet soothed the raging storm that would shoot through Connor like a bolt of lightning at a moment’s notice, while the strength of Connor’s personality seemed to act as an anchor for his shorter friend when Evan became unmoored in a sea of emotions. It didn’t fix everything, their problems wouldn’t just vanish because of one ray of light in the gloom, but sometimes it helped.

On one particular occasion, in one of his braver moments, the blond of the pair had smiled that precious smile and handed Connor a woven loop of blue and black thread. It was one of those tie-up bracelets, clearly handmade, with a bead in the middle with a fluffy little tree on it. The personification of teenage angst stared at the bangle before glancing back up to its maker.

“A bracelet? Why?” He’d asked, one bony finger spinning the single bead in place.

“Well, it’s a friendship bracelet. I-I know, it’s kind of lame, and really you don’t have to wear it or anything, I just thought hey you know maybe- maybe it’d be fun, but it was super dumb and really you don’t have to-”

“I love it and I’m never taking it off,” Connor interrupted the blond’s rambling speech, already pulling the collection of string over his wrist and fixing the knot tightly.

Evan stared at him for a moment, as if the taller of the two had all of a sudden started speaking fluent Russian. “You don’t have to,” he finally said, voice quiet.

“I want to,” Connor stated, and his heart most certainly did not melt when a smile bloomed over the tree lover’s face. True to his word, he’d worn the bracelet every day since.

Unlike that day, today had not been great. It hadn’t even been good. Everything had been crap right from the moment he’d woken up. He’d snapped at Zoe about half way through the day, threatening terrible things and yet hating her for the fear he saw in her eyes when he’d come to his senses enough to try and apologise, taking the smallest of steps forward. His dad had looked at him with such utter disappointment, like he’d given up on any hope that Connor might turn out to be normal after all and his god damn mother was the worst of all. She didn’t look at him like she hated him or like he disappointed her, she looked at him like he was this fragile broken thing and that drove him crazy because he knew every bit of it was true. So he’d lashed out and slammed doors until he was safely shut away from her pity and despair with his bedroom door locked and the music turned up so loud that he could feel the beat of it through the floor boards.

Not for the first time, anything on his shelves or desk quickly ended up scattered along the floor as the brunet felt anger and panic mix and rise, leaving him feeling scared and lost as he controlled himself less and less. Shaking hands searched frantically under his mattress for his stash, a scream of frustration tearing its self from his throat as the man in question realised he was entirely out of anything he could roll into a joint. Every muscle of his being was tensed as he buzzed with agitation, pale hands gripping and grabbing and pinching at the skin of his arms and legs before finally he grunted out “fuck it,” and upended the top drawer of his bed side table.

The glinting piece of metal stood out against the junk heap almost instantly, like an old friend waving through a crowd. He felt almost calmer as he pushed back the sleeves of his sweater, anticipating the sweet blankness which would engulf his mind along with the first sting of the razor through his skin. He fumbled with the blade for a moment before grasping it with trembling fingers and bringing it up to his wrist in a desperate attempt to quiet the awful hurricane of self-hatred and anger swirling through his brain. He looked down as he brought the blade close to the scared skin and saw-

Blue and black thread, twisted together, with a fluffy little tree sitting in the middle. Instead of the familiar slicing sensation, the brunet felt a different kind of sting; blue eyes burned as they filled with tears, and Connor willed himself to push forward and pretend nothing had changed but he couldn’t. Just thinking about Evan, his smile, his laugh, his seldom seen sarcastic side, how agonised he’d looked when he first saw the scars on Connor’s arms…. A broken sob forced its way out as the brunet realised he couldn’t go through with it, not when he knew how scared Evan would be not of him but for him.

The cold metal fell from his fingers as the teen collapsed to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest and crying as an unnameable array of emotions continued to bombard him, including frustration at not being able to get these awful feelings out of his system and out of harm’s way.

He had no idea how long he sat there like that, it felt like years, but the tall teen must have fallen asleep at some point because when he opened his eyes next his room was awash with the golden light of the setting sun. He felt utterly drained, and it took far too much energy for him to reach up enough to switch off his music so that the pounding behind his eyes was starved of additional fuel. Silence fell with the weight of a grand piano, deafening in its own way until the beeping of a message coming through on Connor’s phone thankfully cut through the quiet. He groaned as he reached for it, unlocking the screen and staring blankly at the message he’d received before his brain remembered how to process information again. It was from Evan. Of course it was, he didn’t speak to anyone else.

His nerd had sent a picture through of a tree, of course, and one of the branches of the tree had somehow formed into the universal hand signal for ‘rock on’. Evan had also included the caption ‘ _I think I found our love child :)_ ’.

Tears once again sprung to the teen’s eyes as he stared down at the picture, a watery laugh echoing throughout the silent room as a smile somehow managed to pull at his lips. He traded quick snippets of conversation with the tree lover as he dragged himself off of the floor and into bed, exhaustion threaded throughout every fibre of his being. He soon let unconsciousness take hold of him once again, but not before setting the punk tree as his new background image.

And of course, making sure his friendship bracelet was still securely tied around his wrist.


End file.
